


dandelions and periwinkles

by lunaaltare



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dating, Finn's Incredibly Low Standards, Kylo is Illiterate, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Rebelsith, Stream of Consciousness, intimacy issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22233217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaaltare/pseuds/lunaaltare
Summary: Finn Calrissian doesn’t do hookups. Well, at least not anymore.
Relationships: Background relationships - Relationship, Finn/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64





	dandelions and periwinkles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chanellywelly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanellywelly/gifts).



> thanks to chanelle for the idea....ur brain is...massive....

dandelions and periwinkles

[a story of repeated mistakes]

Finn Calrissian doesn’t do hookups. Well, at least not anymore. His 26th birthday rapidly approaches, and just a year after graduating university, the thrill of anonymous partners milling in-and-out of his bedroom has worn off. What once used to be a fun way to blow off exam week stress devolved into a never-ending game of “spot-the-catfish” and hoping the guy he brings home isn’t a serial killer. Or racist. Or a racist serial killer.

It was a while before he started uninstalling the ensemble of dating apps from his phone. Three months into his unintentional abstinence, they were just using up precious storage space. Bumble was the first to go. Tinder followed suit a week later. He hung onto Grindr for an embarrassingly long time, but it took one forward message from BlkC0ckLuvr83 to convince him to trash it for good.

All things considered; he doesn’t think he’s lonesome without a warm body in his bed every other night. He has great—actually, _amazing_ friends. Sure, they’re all in committed relationships and invite him to fifth wheel on double dates, but it’s the thought that counts. (Or something like that.) Every now and again he entertains a casual date with a coworker or friend-of-a-friend, although the furthest he’s gone with any of them was a chaste kiss. Oh, and he even has a pet goldfish that he may or may not talk to while he putters about his apartment doing household chores.

Either way, even if he _was_ lonely (which he is _not_ , he reminds himself yet again) it’s not like he could squeeze in time for a relationship between grad school and his internship, anyway. He’s drowning in novel-length essays and articles laced with academic jargon—going out to meet someone just isn’t an option.

Unless he doesn’t _exactly_ have to go out to meet them, that is.

Kylo Ren isn’t his type. Sure, he’s tall and built like a brick house and has hands big enough to hold a basketball like a tennis ball. Even with all that going for him, however, he’s still that weird kid in English Lit that argues too much and stares at the back of his head all day.

In a stroke of bad luck, he was paired with Kylo on a research project. They begrudgingly exchanged numbers and sent stilted, passive-aggressive texts on how to approach the topic. As the deadline drew nearer and the school library no longer sufficed their hours-long study sessions, Finn invited him to his apartment a handful of times to catch up.

When he isn’t convinced he has to prove a point in every conversation, sometimes Kylo isn’t _too_ bad to talk to. He’s an argumentative prick, Finn doesn’t think that’s ever going to change, but his dry, deadpan humor is a side of Kylo he didn’t expect to see. He learns other things about him, too. Like his (bad) taste in music and favorite (mediocre) films and that his name _technically_ isn’t Kylo Ren but Finn guzzled too many Bang energy drinks to process anything he says beyond there.

Long story short, by the end of that project, Finn and Kylo have a _thing_. It’s a weird thing—fickle and frustrating, but also curiously exciting. His phone trills from a notification, and his heart rate picks up. Just spam email. Of course.

Messaging Kylo is only slightly more compelling than a conversation with his goldfish. Kylo is a horrible texter. A shitty speller, too, which is shocking considering they're both pursuing a master’s in literature. It's difficult to gauge his emotions over the phone, somehow even harder than it is face-to-face. He doesn’t like phone calls, either. Their few chats are filled with stammering and long silences that make Finn question the longevity of this relationship. Finally, after a few painful texts, they decide it’s easier to rendezvous at the niche little coffee shop on campus when they’re not too busy.

Two months into their _thing_ , he starts telling his friends about Kylo. They already heard of him from Finn’s longwinded rants about _the jackass that sits in the back of class who argued with me for criticizing Stephen fucking King. In the middle of the lecture, by the way!_ So, when Finn reintroduces him as his maybe-not-really-kind-of-possibly boyfriend, he’s met with a lot of unimpressed stares. A deafening quiet sweeps his living room. That means they won't judge him now, but the moment this goes downhill he's never going to hear the end of it.

“Can we at least see him?” Poe asks attentively, sprawled on his couch with an armed wrapped around Zorri.

Up until this moment, he forgot Kylo had an Instagram. He only knows it because the one time Kylo sent an unfunny meme from his account, which Finn then responded with a desperate amount of laughing emojis to make up for his complete lack of wit. After searching his account, Finn wishes he never remembered.

Kylo’s page is nothing but caption-less blurry pictures and nihilistic quotes lifted straight from tumblr, watermark and all. He posted very few pictures of himself, yet all of them are taken in bad lighting while he wears clothes stolen from the 2007 Hot Topic catalog. Rose clicks a picture of Kylo posed in front of a dirty mirror with an oversized Invader Zim t-shirt. Poe taps an unflattering selfie shot from an angle where you can see right up Kylo’s nostrils and the odd protrusion of his lips. Finn wants to sink into the couch.

Based on his account, the only thing you could gather is that he's 6'2 and an edgelord. Which...isn't too far off from reality, sadly. _Christ_.

“Well.” Rey starts, unimpressed. “I mean. He’s…interesting.”

“And, uh, he listens to Metallica. I like Metallica.” Poe adds unhelpfully. Zorri nods rigidly in agreement.

“Alright, enough. Give me back my damn phone.” He pretends he can’t see Rose hiding her cackle behind a pillow for his own sake.

Three months into their (can he call it a relationship now? Probably not.) _thing,_ they go on their first date. Honestly, their first date is only their first date because of semantics. They go out to lunch nearly every week, they’ve taken leisure strolls hand-in-hand through botanical gardens and had countless scandalous make-out sessions in front of his pet goldfish. The difference between _this_ date and the others is that Kylo actually asks him out this time.

Kyle: what r u doing 2ady

Kyle: *2day

Finn pries his eyes away from his textbook and peers at his phone.

Finn: putting together this dumb presentation

Finn: why whats up

Kyle: theers a new movie frm palpatine i wanted 2 watch

Kyle: with u

One day he’s going to be mortified that Kylo’s borderline illiterate texts make his stomach twists in knots. Today is not that day.

Finn: who tf is palpatine

Kyle: sheev palpatine??

Kyle: greatest director of oru generatoin??

Finn: never heard of him

Kyle: u have no taste in film

Kyle: theres a showing of his newst movie at 9

Finn: alright ill go

Finn: only if ur paying lol

Kyle: ok

Then several minutes later:

Kyle: its a date thn

Finn didn’t pick up his father’s dramatic sense of fashion, but he at least knows how to put together a decent outfit. He never had an issue dressing up for an outing with Kylo before, but now that they’re _officially_ on a date, pressure weighs on his shoulders.

He has a couple of risky tops laid on his bed for consideration: a sheer one, a tight silk one and a crop top he let Rey bully him into buying, but they were all too garish to wear sitting in a dark theater for two hours. He pulls a plain gray t-shirt from his closet, although it’s so unremarkable it screams “trying too hard to be casual.” He finally settles on a knitted turtleneck, a simple gold chain, straight jeans and combat boots. Basic, but acceptable.

Kylo stands in front of his door with a bruising grip on a bundle of periwinkles and dandelions. There's no wrapping or vase for the flowers; it looks like he stole them from a neighbor’s yard before he got here. The stems of the flowers are damp with sweat. He discreetly wipes his hand on his jeans as Kylo leads the way to his parked car.

Kylo looks…nice. He washed his hair voluntarily, which is a significant upgrade from his usual grungy appearance. He kind of looks like a rejected member of Linkin Park—but in a good way. Maybe.

They stop at a pizza place across the street from the theater where they serve slices the size of his head. It's greasy and saucy, but authentic. He’s stuffed after the first cut, but the flavor alone spurs him to order another, anyway. Kylo stares at Finn while he eats. He should find it more off-putting than he does, but he's grown used to and to some extent, flattered by his undivided attention.

The tab comes and Finn reaches for his wallet, but Kylo slaps his card down so quickly the table rattles. Even the waitress looks a bit perturbed. He's slower with his card at the concession stand, simply because he refuses to let go of Finn's hand. Instead, he chooses to fumble around his wallet with one hand while the cashier zones out waiting.

Finn knew _Voyagers of the Legacy_ was going to be tedious, but he didn't expect to be bored to tears. The movie is a whopping two hours of disjointed cinematic shots and wordy monologues from wooden characters. From the dialogue alone, Finn can tell Palpatine was self-fellating in the writer’s room as he got off to the genius of his own script.

The sparse plot engrosses Kylo, but he keeps shooting not-so-furtive glances at Finn to measure his enjoyment. Finn occasionally musters up enough energy to fake a reaction whenever something happens (as few and far between as that is), but not even Academy award-winning acting could make him appear more than mildly interested in the film.

They sit on the bench outside and talk about the movie underneath a fluorescent streetlight. Kylo thinks its art. Finn thinks it’s a waste of thirty dollars and gas. Kylo tries to spark a pseudointellectual debate about life represented in the movie, but Finn can tell his heart’s not in it considering how quickly he folds.

"I had fun," He didn't, but the night was still pleasant, if not a bit cliché. It feels like he's in a low-budget gay rom-com—direct to DVD with low ratings on Amazon, too. Kylo leans into his space. Finn thinks about the bunch of flowers wilting in the passenger seat of his ride, then meets him halfway.

[a story of repeated mistakes]

Finn Calrissian doesn't do hookups (anymore), but he's not above fucking on the first date. It’s Finn’s first time at Kylo’s place, although he doesn’t get a good look at it as he’s ushered through the foyer and up against the nearest wall. Kissing is nice, especially when it’s afforded as much careful attention as Kylo gives it. He’s not particularly experienced, but the intensity, the palpable fervor, does it for him. He pulls away, breathless.

“You have a condom?”

“In my room,” he says, his pupils blown wide.

As soon as they’re behind a closed door, they’re shedding clothes. Kylo throws his jacket in a corner somewhere. Finn kicks his shoes under the bed. His turtleneck gets caught around his head, though Kylo thankfully wrangles him free.

Finn lounges nude on Kylo’s bed, silently thanking his foresight to prep. He watches Kylo with open amusement as he tears the wrapper with his teeth, then struggles to spit the foil out his mouth. His room is only lit by the moonlight pouring in from a window, yet Finn sees the red tinging his wide chest as clear as day. Whether it be from inexperience, nervousness or both, it takes Kylo an inordinately long time to slip a condom on.

He makes up for his blunder quickly. Kylo kneels on the bed, pulling Finn forward by the hip and hoists a leg over his shoulder. He takes no more than a minute to prepare him before gradually pushing in.

“Are you okay?” Kylo asks, pressing his forehead against Finn’s. Finn toys with the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, m’fine. Just hurry up,”

Kylo’s body is overly warm, but the heat feels great flush against his skin. For all his aloofness in any other setting, in bed he’s tactile to the point it’s mawkish. He traces the shell of Finn’s ear with a finger and caresses his wrists with his thumbs while they’re pinned to the mattress. He almost feels bad for the welts that will form across Kylo’s back come morning, but for now, he doesn’t have the wherewithal to be guilty.

Kylo swings Finn on top and strokes Finn’s hip bones as he rides him. He kisses Finn clumsily on the lips, then tucks his face in the crook of his neck when he comes. He doesn’t pull out until he gets Finn off with quick work of his hands and some incomprehensible dirty talk that would make his dick shrivel if Kylo’s voice wasn’t so deep.

He basks lazily in the afterglow, shutting his eyes and catching his breath. The A/C whirrs on; the air cools his sticky body like a refreshing breeze. He’s half asleep when he hears quieted sniffles.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out Kylo is crying.

Finn doesn’t want to ask if he’s okay. It’s the _right thing to do_ , but there are very few ways you can ask someone why they’re crying after sex without wanting to run into oncoming traffic. Briefly, he wonders if it’s too mean to start looking for his stuff.

“Do you need a moment?” He offers lamely. “Or, uh, a tissue?”

“No, just—can you stay?” Kylo’s back is still turned to him. Luckily, he can’t see Finn grimace.

“Yeah, of course. I’m just gonna…grab some water real quick. Be back in a sec,”

Once out of earshot, Finn scrubs a hand over his face and lets out a weary sigh. It was objectively a good lay. Kylo has the strength, the stamina and he’s big in more ways than one. He’s seen better faces working the grave shift at 7/11 freshman year, but when he’s being taken from behind, what he looks like is utterly unimportant. Sex—and subsequent sobbing—aside, despite all of his quirks, Finn’s _still_ inexplicably attracted to him. Had this been anyone else, he would’ve crawled out of the second-story window to avoid staying the night after this debacle.

“You must be Finn,” a voice suddenly rings from behind him. He whirls around and wields his cup of water like it’s a vat of acid.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Hux. Kylo’s roommate.”

Finn eyes him from head to toe. His bright ginger hair, ashen skin, and dead eyes make him look like a madhouse escapee. Or better yet, one of those racist serial killers he was worried about meeting online. They stare each other down until Kylo blows his nose so loud it sounds like a trumpet. Finn flinches.

“Does he usually do this?”

“Damn if I know,” he mutters, sidestepping Finn and grabbing a carton of milk from the fridge. “You’re the only person I’ve seen him with since he moved in.”

Well, shit.

“Are you—well. Were you a virgin?” Finn gently asks after the longest water break in history. He can’t believe he’s having this conversation. There’s _no_ way he’s having this conversation. In 2019. With a twenty-eight-year-old man. But since he didn’t book it the moment he had a chance, that means he’s committed to this _thing_. And commitment requires having serious, adult conversations that are more painful than pulling teeth.

“No.”

Finn’s not entirely convinced, but he rolls with it.

“Is it something I did?”

“No, it’s—it’s not anything like that.” Now he sounds frustrated. Great. Fantastic, really.

“Alright, then what is it? Not sure if you’ve noticed, but bursting into tears right after screwing isn’t exactly the norm.”

“I did not burst into tears.”

“You cried like a huge baby.” His goading coaxes Kylo to finally look him in the eye, even if it’s just to glower. Kylo’s skin gets all blotchy, the way it does when he’s mortified. Finn absolutely does not find this endearing. Not even a little bit. Nope. “So, are you gonna’ tell me why you were crying?”

“I’d rather not,” And a second later, “Come here.”

“Are you seriously trying to cuddle right now?”

“You are quite literally insufferable,” he mutters and then rests his chin at the top of Finn’s head.

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: its dumb that i have to say this, but since this fandom is full of freaks and weirdos, if you find yourself identifying as an "anti-anti" or "pro-shipper" or any dumb ass internet group that thinks shipping incest and pedophilia is okay just because "fiction doesn't affect reality" please go play in traffic and do not interact with my works.  
> i am also not reylo friendly so i'd prefer if u bitches dont touch my shit either  
> anyway. shout out to the finnlo server. if you're not some ass backward creep message me on tumblr the same username for a link


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